


Sherlock Secret Santa (2012)

by knittykitty



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock Secret Santa 2012, So much fluff!!!, Wholock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittykitty/pseuds/knittykitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was my present for Gabriella (articulatingthoughts on tumblr) for the 2012 Sherlock Secret Santa gift exchange. <br/>Seeing that she likes Doctor Who and The Hobbit I tried to include a bit of both. I haven’t written anything fictional in years and am a bit rusty but I hope it’s not too bad (english is not my mother-tongue so please kindly ignore all mistakes).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Secret Santa (2012)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [articulatingthoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=articulatingthoughts).



»Boys!« Mrs. Hudson’s voice rang up the stairs, »You’ve got a visitor! A Mr. Smith!«

Both John and Sherlock jumped to their feet. But before either of them could open the door, it was opened from the outside and a gangly man in a brownish suit and a red bow-tie and fez stepped into the room.

»Ah! You found each other at last! You see, I knew it from the start but one can’t be sure of the future. Unless it’s written of course which at one point it will be and then it will be sure even seeing it backwards but you can’t know that in advance then, can you?!« The confused look on the faces of his audience made it clear that he hadn’t made himself clear at all. »I’m the Doctor, you remember me, don’t you?«

Both men nodded and started speaking at the same time »But you changed!«

»Yeah, it couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid.« He shrugged a little sadly. »You, dear fellow doctor, knew me in my last regeneration and you, Sherlock, in the one before that.«

»You know the Doctor?! And never told me?!«

»You knew him longer than me and didn’t tell me!«

»I promised not to tell anyone. Keeping promises is good, I remember distinctly! Why didn’t you tell me?!«

»A spaceship that’s bigger on the inside, how should I explain that? To you?«

»Hello, still here.« The Doctor tried to shut them up but had to wait for another 15 minutes before the two bickerers finally let it go.

»Well, now that you’re married and everything I can take you for a spin together. It’s kind of my present to you. Sorry, I missed the big day by the way, wasn’t my fault though, I was… well, let’s say some things are better not talked about, especially if they involve Queen Nefertiti, John Riddle and that much Nutella.«

»We’re not married! We’re not even a couple!« John was outraged. Everyone and their aunts and now even the Doctor was going on about the gay thing. Admittedly, he liked Sherlock but not like that… at least he was sure Sherlock didn’t like him like that, didn’t like anyone like this for that matter. Sherlock was married to his work and he was part of that work, sure, but that’s it nothing more to it… The Doctor looked pretty confused though.

»What do you mean? Not married?« The giraffe like man paced trough their living room.

Sherlock blushed a bit »John’s not – you know – he is…«

»What do you mean, I’m not? You! You are not!« John had whirled around to face the great detective and just glimpsed somewhat of a bashful look on Sherlocks face.

Slowly understanding dropped into the room like an A-bomb.

»Yeah, right, what year is it? That could be it. Right date, wrong year – it happens, you both know it…« The Doctor’s voice faded.

The man appearing to be John Smith smiled. Somehow he had the feeling that he had just been Santa Clause, Easter Bunny, Tooth fairy and whatnot at the same time… He slowly made his way down the stairs again leaving the ›suddenly very much a couple‹ behind.

~*~

»You should rather learn to play the guitar.«

»That’s a vulgar instrument!«

»Sherlock don’t! Molly is right, playing the violin will not make the girls swoon over him…« John interrupted Molly and Sherlock before they could engage in an argument. Since Molly had stopped being all hopelessly in love with Sherlock she’d proven more than once that she can stand her ground against the great genius and actually takes much pleasure in their banters.

»I didn’t do bad for myself…« Sherlock mumbled indignantly and John gave him his best ›Don’t go there in front of guests‹ look. »I’m not a Victorian heroin, you know!« he huffed.

Molly couldn’t help but giggle with delight, earning her a stern look from both men.

»Hamish can decide for himself what instruments he’d like to play. I won’t mycroft him around into doing what we want him to do!« Sherlock proclaimed liberally.

Molly had just come by to drop off some experiment transcripts for Sherlock and hadn’t resisted to pick up some sheet music for her godchild on the way to 221B. Even at his tender age Hamish already played the violin like no other child she’d heard before. He was a clever boy. It had to be expected really with his parents being who they were. But still Molly sometimes caught herself being surprised.

Hamish mused »Learning to play the guitar?! I should master it quickly seeing the relationship between string instruments.«

»If you want to I can lend you my old one. I don’t use it as much as I used to.«

Hamish smiled at the new – though minor – challenge of learning a new instrument.

»I didn’t know you were fond of playing music, Molly.« John commented and added with a sneaky smile »I learned to play the clarinet at school.«

And Sherlock spat his tea everywhere.

~*~

>   
>  »I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be at in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know enough to go on with.«*  
> 

»Dad?«

»Hamish?«

»This is not very conclusive. Who’s ›us‹ and which height have dwarfs? So which height have hobbits?«

John inhaled »Well, Hamish, this is a kind of fairy tale. They don’t have to be conclusive. Not everything can be deduced in a fairy tale. It’s…« he looked up but there was only Sherlock with them in the room and having him explain a concept like fairy tales to a 7 year old would probably have a rather traumatizing effect. »It’s a world of magic rather than logic. Hobbits just exist there and they live according to this description very comfortably.« John tried to smile reassuringly.

Sherlock looked up from his book of bacterial poisons.

»Nonsense.«

John groaned »Not again, Sherlock. You’re definitely not an expert regarding children’s books and story telling.«

Hamish quirked an eyebrow, a facial expression he should be far to young for. »Dad, father don’t argue! Mrs. Hudson said this was a great book, I can read it by myself…«

But he was cut off by his father »I was not arguing with the book. It’s a great tale.«

John was so baffled, he just sat there mouth hanging open.

»Don’t look so surprised, John! It’s an imaginary universe all in itself. It’s quite conclusive and clever…«

What followed was an unexpected praise for Tolkien’s Middle-earth and an even more surprising offer »I can read it to you if you want to. As a boy I rather liked those books. I think I deleted them but now I remember.« Sherlock smiled »And to answer your initial question: Hobbits are about the size of your dad.«

*I do not own this bit. It’s a citation from J.R.R. Tolkien: The Hobbit.


End file.
